


The Woman in the Dream

by eshustar



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Gen, The Secret History of Twin Peaks Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 18:02:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20344363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eshustar/pseuds/eshustar
Summary: Is it future...? Or is it past? It's hard to tell in a dream. Enjoy your stay at The Great Northern.





	The Woman in the Dream

Excerpts from registered medium Margaret Nola's dream journal

Year: Unknown  
The Great Northern Hotel  
Twin Peaks, WA Room 217

August 27th

I'm sitting at one of the outside tables at a cafe, somewhere in a European city that looks like it could be Paris. Across me a young Asian woman, as gorgeous as a beauty-queen. She is the same woman from the dreams from the last two nights.  
She is nervously biting her lips and constantly panning the street, as if on the lookout for unknown dangers.  
“You know, they never caught me.” She says. “Well, not really. I've always been great at getting away.”  
“Who are you talking about?” I ask hesitantly.  
“Those who laugh when you cry.” “I don't understand,” I say.  
She puts her finger on her lips and shakes her head.  
“I usually meet a man here. He looks like an angel. Pale and graceful. He knows the future more than the past. He tells me everything is connected.”  
I'm utterly confused.  
“I'm sorry, I don't think I understand...”  
“He says that in Tibet the real world is so close to the world of the spirits, that if you're not careful as you walk on the road and you trip, you might end up on the other side.”  
“Who is this man?” I ask as I become interested.  
“He sometimes asks about my sister. I tell him, she is just like our mother.”  
She stares at someone behind me. I turn around. Just regular folks coming and going, minding their business.  
“There are two letters in the names, the letter “P” and the letter “J”. You see, it's all connected.”  
“What are you trying to tell me?”  
She looks deeply in my eyes.  
“Just that they never caught me. Not really.”  
“Who do you think I am?”  
“You're everyone.”

August 26th

A woman is singing in the darkness. Then there are curtains. Long and heavy. Red as blood.  
The singing stops. The beautiful woman appears within the curtains and gestures towards me to follow her. I do that.  
We end up in a small patch of grass in the middle of a thick northern forest. She points at the trees. “The trees... They know all of our secrets. If you listen carefully, they whisper. They always whisper.” I listen, but I can't hear anything.  
“People carve things out of wood, but they can't kill the secrets. The woods know everything. Good and bad. That's where the secrets live.” She's walking around me.  
“People say all kinds of bad things about me, but really, none of it is true. That's just not me. They see what they want to see.”  
She sighs.  
“And what is a face after all? An illusion. Just what you want to see on a person. Really, a face belongs more to the person who sees it, not the person who wears it.  
An owl flies from one tree to another.  
“The guardian,” the woman says. “He won't let me out. Follow me.”  
She gets ahold of my hand and pulls me into the darkness. We run between heavy, red curtains.  
“You know there's a way around it all. There is a way to stay invisible. To always stay between the curtains and avoid their ever-searching eyes. Just never go towards the music. No matter how inviting it sounds.”  
Indeed, there is music. Inviting. I feel like dancing. But we turn away. We run between heavy, red curtains. Then there's a humming sound.

August 25th

The humming comes from the corner. There is a chair there, maybe a lamp. It's hard to see. Is this a hotel room, or an office? The hotel lobby? There is wood everywhere. So much wood. Heavy with spirits. Heavy with secrets.  
A beautiful woman kneels by the wall and presses her ear against it.  
“Can you hear it?”  
I nod. I can hear the humming sound very clearly.  
“It is very important that we protect the sound. It can never go away!” “Why?” I ask.  
“Everything comes back to here. This is where it all changes.” “What changes here?”  
She stands up. She looks deep into my eyes.  
“What do you remember?” I shrug my shoulders.  
“I remember the FBI.”  
“Is that it?”  
I shrug my shoulders again.  
“Does it matter?”  
“It might one day.”  
I shrug my shoulders now like it's a habit.  
“But this is all just a dream anyway, no?”  
“It matters to the dreamer,” she says.  
“Where the future is the past, where every moment is lost in the dance of the ‘always’ and ‘never’, how can any change really make any difference?” I ask.  
Tears tremble in her eyes like her lips.  
“Because maybe one day... maybe tonight, or years from now, or decades ago… whenever… BOB will finally meet his end and he will finally die. Then we all will be free.”  
A moment of heavy silence.  
Then she says:  
“Real change or not, it's worth it. It’s worth everything.”  
I wake up.


End file.
